OOM: Farewell to Sinric

[cook_the_rude]

 Hannibal leads the way upstairs and to his private room -- which is as it was. Mostly.

"Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" is gone from the walls; instead, there are archaeological drawing of Scythian tattoos, with the merest hint at the bodies they used to be applied to, the stark black art dominating the pencilled outline of a neck, a shoulder, a thigh, a pair of buttocks.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes!" Hannibal says. "Do whatever comes to mind, it's amazingly great!"

[thewidewideworld]

"Do you object to me leaving my mark on you?" Sinric ask, licking reddened skin.

[cook_the_rude]

"Not at all," Hannibal says. "It's likely to be gone before I return to my captors."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lets out something between a growl and a purr and bites down, sucking to leave a red mark on Hannibal's throat as he tightens and rocks.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal arches his back and cries out with pleasure.

[thewidewideworld]

Hmm, Sinric likes that sound. A lot. A few more bite follow down the curve of Hannibal's collarbone. Confident of Hannibal's hardness now, Sinric starts to fuck himself in earnest.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans with helpless abandon, putty in Sinric's hands.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves in perfect control, changing the speed and firmness of his thrusts like the movements of a concerto. He varies kisses with bites, little licks with scrapping teeth.

[cook_the_rude]

The only words that Hannibal gets in between his moans are 'Yes!' and 'Oh yes!'.

[thewidewideworld]

Just what Sinric wants. He reaches back a hand to brush over Hannibal's stones, feeling for how close to the edge he is.

[cook_the_rude]

He is very closed, moaning at the touch with renewed abandon.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric purrs, skillfully tugging Hannibal's jewels just so to bring him back from the edge a little. He slows himself, clenching his inner muscles tightly to hold Hannibal where he is. "Tell me what you desire?"

[cook_the_rude]

"You!"

[thewidewideworld]

"How?" He demands, fingers teasing the rear of Hannibal's jewels.

[cook_the_rude]

"Just so!"

His hips thrust up, pushing against Sinric's finger.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves with him, not letting the thrust enter him any deeper. He does however rub his fingers in circles over Hannibal's hole. "Just so?"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal groans loudly, thrusting in helpless greed for more.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans back a little, riding with Hannibal's thrusts and teasing the tip of his finger in just a tiny bit. Enough to make Hannibal feel it press.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal moans and wriggles, as if trying to impale himself further on that finger.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric stills, waits till Hannibal is desperate with need. He brings that finger to his lips, making sure Hannibal's eyes are on him as he lavishes it wet and ready with his tongue. "Will you fall if I give you this?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Into the deepest, sweetest abyss," Hannibal says, somewhat more coherent now he is not being driven on all that directly.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric releases the finger with a pop and reaches back, teasing wet skin over Hannibal's tight hole.

[cook_the_rude]

All coherence is gone as Hannibal once more moans loudly.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric moves in slow, lazy thrusts, his finger dipping and pressing closer as he speeds up.

Clenching tight and driving himself down, he thrusts his finger deep, seeking the seat of pleasure as he does.

[cook_the_rude]

When he touches it, Hannibal erupts -- moaning and thrashing wildly, and spilling his seed into Sinric once again.